


His favourite pizza (delivery guy)

by thewallflower07



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, And more pizza, Even more Pizza, Halloween Costumes, Horny Teenagers, John Watson Flirts, John Watson is Perfect, M/M, Medical student John, Mycroft Holmes Being Annoying, Pizza, Sherlock Holmes Is Bad At Flirting, Sherlock Holmes October Fest, Sherlock is a Love Simon fan, high school student sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 15:38:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16178081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewallflower07/pseuds/thewallflower07
Summary: Johnlock pizza delivery AU: Sherlock is staying at a hotel on Halloween with his family and keeps insisting they order pizza because he is infatuated with the very cute, blonde delivery boy.





	His favourite pizza (delivery guy)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chemma66](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemma66/gifts).



> Prompt idea by HeadCumberNerd on Twitter.

“It will be fun.“, they said.

“Visiting Stonehenge on Halloween, that’s something special.“, they said.

“A comfortable holiday with the family.“, they said.

What they didn’t say: “Stonehenge is a few stones stapled on top of each other. It’s going to be cold, rainy and dark. You will share a room with your brother. We are sleeping just one door away.“  
  
Sherlock crunched his teeth and tried for the thousand time to connect with the Wi-Fi from the small hotel his family is staying in. It still didn’t work. Apparently the internet had not been invented in this town yet.  
He groaned and hit his pillow with his flat hand. The lies parents tell their children! His mum persuaded him to drive to Wiltshire, saying it would be nice to have one last family holiday together before Mycroft went off to do his so-called essential government work, and he would start studying for his a-levels. He planned to concentrate on chemistry and biology, and it would mean a lot of work. The anticipated stress coupled with the pleading eyes of his mother brought him to this hotel room, where he had to share a room with his seventh years older brother.  
Happy Halloween!  
Sherlock hit the pillow again, which finally got a reaction from Mycroft.  
He looked angrily up from his book, some ridiculously long Winston Churchill biography, and hissed at him: “For goddess sake, Sherlock! Behave some, would you?“

  
“I AM BORED!“, growled Sherlock and flipped himself on his back to stare at the ceiling. “There is no internet, no television, you wouldn’t let me bring any experiments and it’s raining outside!“ Sure enough, heavy raindrops were splashing against the window.

  
Mycroft put a leather bookmark into his book and threw it on the night table where it landed with a muffled sound.

 

“You could read something.“

  
Sherlock sighed: “I already finished my book.“ He had read Love, Simon on the train journey. Sherlock had expected the book to last for his whole trip, but it turned out to be a surprisingly entertaining and funny book. Of course, he figured out who the mysterious ‚Blue‘ was long before any of the characters did, but it was sweet nonetheless. Normally he only ever reads scientific books, not fiction, but Irene forced him to watch the film in cinema with her. The book was still better of course. The book was always better. Sherlock regretted it immensely that he didn’t pack The Song of Achilles (Molly called it a tearjerker) too. It would have given him something to do.  
Annoying his rubbish older brother just wasn’t as fun any more, since Mycroft was off to London all the time. Soon Sherlock would join him in the big city, when he attended university. Actually one of his biggest worries was how to find a volunteering flatmate for him. Most boys in his age didn’t like him, one of the reasons was their common internal homophobia and fragile masculinity, but it’s also because Sherlock tended to be a bit of an arse (or so Greg put it, Molly’s boyfriend).

  
“We could work on your deduction skills.“, Mycroft offered.

  
“I’m already better than you will ever be, Mycroft.“, answered Sherlock

 

“Only in your dreams.“, Mycroft muttered. Sherlock threw the pillow at his head, which was naturally the exact moment their mother choose to enter their room. They had booked a double bedroom, so the other bed was only a door away.

  
“Sherlock!“, she admonished. “Don’t nag your brother.“

 

Sherlock ignored her, which prompted her to call for their father.

 

“Our boys are fighting again. On our holiday!“ Mummy crossed her arms, but she wasn’t really angry.

  
“Well, someone has to ground our dear Mycroft, or he will become one of these old bureaucrats who only make orders, but have no clue about the life of an average people anymore..“ Sherlock’s dad spoke in his gentle voice, which always calmed Sherlock down (he would never admit that though).

  
“You don’t have to worry about that, father. I’m actually one of the most active members of my team.“ Mycroft puffed his chest out proudly.

  
“I’m sure you are, sweetheart.“, answered Mummy and patted his shoulder. “Dad and I were thinking we could order some pizza. He noticed a pizza shop on our way.“

  
“Are we eating in here?“ Mummy did not wait for an answer, and just hurried off to call the deliveries guys.

  
Dad sat down on the only chair in the room and started a discussion with Mycroft about his Churchill biography. Sherlock tuned them out and laid back down. His thoughts wandered to their home town, many miles away. Right now Irene was probably finishing up her extravagant costume. She didn’t want to tell him what it was, but Sherlock guessed some superheroes figure. Molly was going as a cat, like the year before. Sherlock had volunteered for that shopping tour, and they found ears and a cat tail for her. Greg was dressing up as a character from Star Wars, Sherlock had forgotten the name. At nine, they would meet up and drive to the annual Halloween party at Janine’s house. The last years he and Molly had always left again after two hours and spent the rest of the night watching a spooky film together. They were not traditional party people. Now that Greg was there, she would most likely go with him, Sherlock thought. Everyone would have a nice night.  
Well, at least pizza was coming.  
  
Hopefully soon.

Mummy had joined them, and now all three were nearly shouting at each other about something Brexit-related. Apparently Mycroft didn’t share their parents opinion.  
Sherlock was just beginning to ask himself if a walk through the mud and rain without an umbrella was preferable to this, when the bell finally ringed.  
  
Sherlock heard a soft “Thank god.“ from Mycroft.

  
“Sherlock darling, can you go and pay them?“, asked his mother and pressed some notes into his hands.

Sherlock sighed and went up to the door. His mother knew how talking to new people made him nervous, and yet she wanted him to do it again and again. Mummy called it practice. Just say hello, thank you, and goodbye, reminded Sherlock himself. Four words, that’s not hard. Four words are totally manageable. He forces himself not to count the money, because surely his mum gave him enough.  
Sherlock opened the door, and saw the most beautiful boy he had ever seen. It felt like being hit by a lightening bolt. It felt like staring directly into the sun, the boy appeared to be glowing. The world stopped turning for a second.  
Great. Now his thoughts were like a character from a young-adult novel.

  
The boy looked a bit older than Sherlock, maybe two years. He had short blond hair. Some raindrops were glistening in it. His blue eyes shone friendly, but Sherlock could detect strength in them too. A future soldier? The boy was shorter than him, but his arms were muscled and his body language showed a confident nature. The phone in his pocket looked new, but there was a big scratch on the display. A gift from a sibling maybe?

The boy was wearing a red jersey jacket which complemented his shoulders. He probably did a lot of sport, maybe football or rugby, something with lots of running. The jocks always teased Sherlock at school, but he immediately had a feeling that this boy was different. The eyes were so caring. A future doctor? Sherlock had only met him for a moment, and he already wanted to know everything about him.  
His lips looked even more kissable to Sherlock now that they were moving.  
  
Wait.  
  
Sherlock turned his ears back on. The handsome boy was talking to him.

  
“Hi, uh, I’m the pizza delivery guy.“, he waved with his arm full of pizza boxes around.

  
Sherlock blinked a few times to reboot his speaking system. Right. Answer. ANSWER.

  
“Obviously.“, Sherlock said in a feeble voice.

 

The WORST ANSWER. EVER. Now the boy would think him rude.

 

The delivery boy blushed. His face turned into a charming colour of red, like his jacket. With an awkward movement he handed Sherlock the four pizzas. Unfortunately his hands suddenly were not able any more to carry some food because Sherlock immediately dropped one box. The pizza fell out of the box and landed face down on the floor. Both boys stared at the mess for a long second. Sherlock had never felt so humiliated in his life.

“S-sorry.“, he stuttered and bend down to clean, but the boy had had the same idea and both of their heads crashed together.

“Ouch!“, groaned the boy and rubbed his head. Sherlock had tripped and landed on his butt. He looked at the boy through his long eyelashes. His face burned like a vulcan now. Well, Molly always told him he resembled one anyway. From that weird space series. May as well look the part.

  
“Alright.“ The delivery boy took a deep breath, then offered Sherlock his hand. Sherlock stared at this particular gorgeous part of his body for a long moment until he realized that he was supposed to take it.  
The fingers were small, but strong, and surprisingly warm despite the cold weather. The boy helped him back on his feet.

  
“I am going back to get a new pizza for you, this one can’t be eaten any more. I don’t know how old this carpet is.“

  
“Probably as old as Stonehenge.“, said Sherlock, desperately trying to resolve some of the tension.  
The boy laughed, and it sounded like bells straight from heaven.

  
“It will only take ten minutes or so, the shop is right around the corner. Until then you and your date can enjoy the food.“

  
Sherlock froze.

  
“I’m not on a date. I’m with my family on holiday.“ For some mysterious reason Sherlock needed this boy to know that.

  
John looked surprised (and maybe relived?): „Sorry, I just saw another boy in there and I just presumed you were very hungry.“

  
Sherlock stared at him. Did he mean Mycroft? 

  
The boy mistook his silence for something else. “Not that there is anything wrong with, dating a boy, I mean, it’s all perfectly fine.“, he said quickly in an appeasing tone.

  
“Yes, I know it is.“ Sherlock coughed awkwardily.

  
“So…“, the boy shuffled with his feet, “I better be going then.“

  
He left and Sherlock closed the door. Mycroft immediately appeared behind him like the second coming. Of course his brother couldn't stay out of Sherlock's business for long! 

  
“That took rather long for a simple payment action.“, his brother drawled and let his eyes roam all over Sherlock. His mouth formed a surprised ‚O‘ sound.

One of the disadvantages with this family was that nothing ever stayed a secret.

  
“Did he forgot one pizza, Sherlock?“, his mother asked.

  
Sherlock shook his head. Was this how it felt being in shock?

  
“I don’t think it’s the delivery guy who forgot something.“, snickered Mycroft.

  
“The rest will be here in a minute.“, he said quietly. Right, the beautiful boy would return. Ten minutes, tops. He needed a plan. He needed a perfect master plan.

  
But how was he supposed to concentrate when his big brother was munching on his pizza, grinning smugly, while his parents feed each other their pieces? 

As promised, the bell rang again and Sherlock was none the wiser. He had to do a little sprint to overtake his dad who was on the way to the door, and so he ended up a little bit breathless. Well, first the run and now the boy in his glory certainly took his breath away.  
  


As promised, the bell rang again and Sherlock was none the wiser. He had to do a little sprint to overtake his dad who was on the way to the door, and so he ended up a little bit breathless. Well, first the run and now the boy in his glory certainly took his breath away.

  
“Hey, you okay?“, asked the boy. He sounded concerned. Concerned about someone he didn’t really know. What a gentleman.

 

Oh, it's nothing, you just take my breath away.

  
“Yeah, sure.“, said Sherlock quickly and had to lean against the door frame for a second to catch his breath.

  
“Here is your fourth pizza. That’s 25 pounds.“

  
The money, right. Where did he put it? Sherlock started searching through his pockets, growing more hectic by the second.  
An old talk with Irene came to his mind, who once made out with the girl from the bakery to get a discount for her cupcake.  
Oh, a joke! He could make a joke, people loved them.

  
“If I can’t find the money, I’m sure I can pay you with something else.“, he said.

  
The boy’s face turned into a new form of red and his mouth dropped open in shock- has Sherlock miscalculated? He went through his words again to look for a double meaning and - oh, oh my god. It wasn’t meant to sound THAT way!

  
“Sorry.“, he stammered and finally his fingers touched the notes in his back pockets on his trousers.

  
Sherlock handed him the money he got from his mom. The boy’s eyes stayed for a second on his arse, his face was unreadable.  
Sherlock let his fingers brush ‚accidentally‘ against the boys. The touch send goosebumps down his spine.

  
The boy searched through his pockets for change but Sherlock shook his head.

  
“You can keep the change.“

  
“Really?“ The boy raised his (also golden) eyebrow. “Because you just gave me 50 pounds.“

  
“It’s a holiday treat.“

  
The boy smiled. “Trick or treat, eh? I am happy I got the treat.“

  
Sherlock wrinkled his forehead in confusion. “You have to take an extra tour through the rain, on Halloween no less, and yet you call it a treat?“

  
The boy shrugged: “I’m glad I get to work today. You meet the best people and see the most wonderful things on these shifts.“ His tongue slipped out, and he licked his lips while still looking Sherlock directly in the eyes.  
  
Sherlock blinked again. It was a bit of a deja-vu day.

Now the boy actually WINKED at him. With one of his sweet eyes. Was he actually flirting with him? With Sherlock? Irene will flip out when he tells her about this.  
  
Wait, don’t think about Irene now, you idiot! Concentrate on the boy in front of you.  
  


“I better be going then.“ The boy seemed to be waiting for something, but Sherlock couldn’t figure out for what.

  
“I’m John, by the way.“ The boy stretched out his hand again. He was left-handed. He had a bit of ink on his fingers.

Sherlock shook his hand.

The boy nodded at him. “Have a good evening.“ He left.

  
John. What an ordinary name. How unfitting for this special person.  
  
Slowly the realization came in. Sherlock had just done the worst thing in his life. Couldn’t he just behave like a normal human being for once? Would it have been so hard to say ‚thank you‘ and to introduce himself? The boy had done that perfectly, after he had licked his lips.  
Oh god, his lips.

  
“Honey, are you okay out there? Your pizza is getting cold!“

  
Sherlock walked back into the room, feeling numb. He pressed the box into his mom’s hand and sat down on his bed, right next to his dad and Mycroft. 

Sherlock wished more than ever now that he had internet connection. He could google ‚How to flirt with the hot delivery guy‘. Or even better, he coud text with Irene to get some tips. Well, Irene would probably send a lot of reaction GIFS from Mamma Mia. Maybe Molly would be more helpful. She had, after all, a nice boyfriend and kept him for ten months now.  
Anyone would be more helpful than his parents, who talked about the weather, or his brother, who now scattered pizza crumbs all over Sherlock’s bed.  
  
Sherlock wrote the headline NEW STRATEGY on a new page in his mind palace and started planning.  
  
He resurfaced again, the clock said fifty minutes later, because his mom told him to just eat his food, it was gone cold now anyway.  
  
He clapped the box open and gave out a loud, acted groan.

  
“Mummy, you ordered the wrong one!“

  
“What do you mean, I ordered the Pizza Hawai, like always. It’s your favourite.“

  
Sherlock prepared himself to throw a fit like only a real teenager could: “If you would ever listen to me, you’d know that I absolutely hate pineapple on my pizza!“

  
His mom sighed (sorry, mummy, but it’s for the greater good — his love life). “Just call the shop and ask for a new one, sweetie. You gave them enough money anyway.“

Sherlock got up, feeling satisfied, grabbed the telephone and shut himself away in the bathroom. Phoning someone usually terrified him, he preferred to text, like most people in his generation. For the handsome boy though, he was prepared to make sacrifices.  
It only ringed two times, then he heard John’s voice through the speaker.  


  
“Hello, it’s Smith’s pizza delivery.“  


  
“Good evening.“ Sherlock congratulated himself. His voice sounded steady and deeper.  


  
“Oh, it’s you! Is  there something wrong with the pizza?“ Sherlock heard the smile through the phone. Was John really happy to hear from him?  


  
“No, it’s just that my mom ordered the wrong one.“  


  
“You only noticed that after an hour?“  


 

Sherlock blushed. Thank god this wasn’t Skype.  


“I was… lost in my thoughts.“  


  
“Do you get lost in your thoughts often?“  


  
“Yeah, a bit. My friends just shove me around when that happens.“  


  
“Sounds like your friends are nice. Do you still go to school?“  


  
Hopefully John won’t think he’s too childish.  


  
“I’m in my last year. I’m gonna go to either Eton or Cambridge in London next year.“  


  
“That’s impressive. You must be awfully smart.“ John did sound impressed.  


  
“I’m the best in my year. And all the years before, since my brother graduated.“ Great, he was bragging way too much.  


  
“So a whole family of geniuses, eh?“  


  
“Yes, but my brother is a real dick.“  


  
John laughed: “I’m not a big fan of my sibling either right now. You are not one, though.“ Christ, Sherlock wanted to spend the rest of his life making him laugh.  


  
“I’m not a what?“  


  
“A dick. You are not a dick.“  


  
“Thank you.“  


  
“You're welcome.“  


  
“You are not a dick either. You will make a good doctor.“  


  
Shit. Sherlock wasn’t supposed to know that!

 

“Wait. What do you mean with that? How- how can you know that?“  


  
“Your natural caring nature, your politeness, your hands are dry from the constant washing, the ink on your hands from your medical notes, the fact you have to work on a holiday. I just guessed, really.“, lucky guess indeed, „You are attending university, maybe your first or second year, and you have a sibling who gave you that phone.“  


  
“I’m in my second year at medical university in London, and I’m working for my uncle to earn some money. How do you know I have a sibling?“  


  
“First, you told me you have one. They probably gave it to you as a gift when you started your studies. It’s a used one, it has a big scratch. It can’t be yours because you wouldn’t be so careless with your stuff.“  


  
“I have an older sister, Harry. She is in a troubled phase right now. Do you do this with everyone you meet?“  


  
“It’s kind of my thing, yes.“  


  
“Brilliant.“  


  
Sherlock’s heart stopped functioning.  


  
“Sorry, what?“  


  
“I think you are brilliant.“  


  
“That’s not what people usually say.“  


  
“What do people usually say?“  


  
“Piss off.“  


  
John chuckled, and Sherlock memorized it in his mind palace forever. He heard some shouts from the shop.  


  
“Sorry, my uncle says I have to go. What pizza do you want?“  


  
“Uhm, a margarita please.“  


  
“Right-o, I’m on my way.“ John hang up, and Sherlock had to evaluate his strategy. He did not even like margarita.  


  
Needless to say, his horrible family wasn’t surprised when the bell rang for a third time.  


  
“Oh, is it that nice boy from the pizza shop again?“, asked his mother, while Mycoft just scowled. His father was humming the slow song from the film with the bookshop and the actress.  


  
“Shut up!“, he whispered in his brothers direction, and dashed to open the door.  


  
John was waiting for him on the other side, holding a pizza box, smiling brightly. Sherlock could enjoy looking at him for the rest of his eternity.  
Except, John was no longer wearing the jersey jacket (what a pity), but some sort of red armour with lots of technical gadgets.  


  
“Is that you're Halloween costume?“  


  
“My uncle says we have to wear it this evening to honour  today. I am going as Iron Man from the Avengers.“  


  
“Who?“  


  
John’s eyes went big: “You never heard of the Avengers? It’s the biggest film of the year.“  


  
Sherlock vaguely recalled Molly and Greg talking about that. Apparently they both cried at the end.  


  
“Oh, you mean THE Avengers! Of course, I know them!“, he lied.  


  
John chuckled: “It’s not bad when you don’t know them.“  


  
How did John figure out that Sherlock lied? The handsome boy is not only sporty, a doctor, no, he is also smart.  


 

“I managed to persuade my uncle to come here a third time. He is under the impression that I am off running to a date or something.“

 

“Are you running off to a date?“

  
Oh god, that wasn’t meant to slip out. What if John was in a relationship?  


  
“I’m free as a bird, but maybe not much longer, if this works out the way I hope.“ John licked his lips again.  


  
Now he was definitely flirting. The ball was in Sherlock’s curb now. Now or never.  
His hands were getting sweaty.  


  
John gave him the pizza. Great, now he knew that Sherlock was dying of nervousness.  


  
“Thank you for the pizza.“ he stammered, and shut the door close with a loud BANG.  


  
Sherlock should call himself a high-functioning sociopath from now on, because clearly he wasn’t able to talk like a normal human being. Not even to someone who genuinely was interested in him back.  
No, he was a low-functioning sociopath. A functioning would be eating his pizza and go to bed. Not lie rolled together on his parents bed (they were still taking up space in his bed). Irene and Molly and Greg were driving to the party now. His parents were holding hands. Mycroft was back to reading the biography. The untouched margarita pizza was getting cold. John was probably ranting about him now to his colleagues, talking about the weird guy who called three times just to throw the door in his face.  


  
Someone was knocking on his door and entered without waiting for an answer.  


  
“Oh, Sherlock…“ It was his mom. Sherlock buried his face into the pillow to hide his hurt expression. She sat down next to him and began to softly stroke his back.  


  
“That didn’t work out the way you wanted it to be, correct?“, she inquired gently. Sherlock only sniffed.  


  
“It was embarrassing. I fucked it up, like I fuck everything else up.“  


  
“That’s not true, honey. You are a wonderful young boy, and everyone who doesn’t see that doesn’t deserve your attention anyway.“  


  
“You’re my mom. It’s your job to say that.“  


  
Mummy sighed: “It’s my job to rebuke you when you need it and to comfort you when you need it. I am doing both now. Get up, call your boy.“  


  
“Mom…“, he whined. “I can’t. I'm an embarrassing human being."

 

 

 

“You’re Sherlock Holmes, you can do everything!“, she pressed the telephone into his hands, clasped his shoulders and left the room again.

  
  
Sherlock stared at the telephone in his hand. Part of him wanted to throw it across the bed. Another part of him wanted forget this whole evening and just reread his book again. Maybe he could annoy Mycroft some more or play Cluedo with his parents. Maybe he could try getting internet connection again. Maybe he could just go to sleep.

  
Sherlock dialled the number. This time his call was answered on the first ring.

  
“Sherlock.I mean, that's my name. I'm Sherlock.“ The words just fell out of his mouth. What was about John that brought out all these conflicting feelings in him?

  
“John, it’s your Sherlock!“, a foreign voice bellowed. Sherlock deflated. He expected John to pick up, like last time.

  
“Sorry, that was my uncle.“ John said in his honey-like voice. “Who is this?“

  
“It’s me, the guy who buys a lot of pizzas and is extremely rude to you.“

  
“You’re not that rude. And your name is Sherlock?“

  
“Sherlock sat up on the bed: „I know, it’s a weird name.“

  
“No, no it suits you.“, John said quickly.

  
“You mean I am weird?“

  
“NO!“

  
The cry surprised Sherlock.

  
“So I’m neither a dick nor weird. That’s good to know.“ He gave a weird chuckle.

 

“Sorry, I have been a total mess this entire evening. Every time I talk to you, I say crazy things.“

  
“Don’t worry, I have the same problem.“

  
“Do you want another pizza?“

  
John understood him without a word. Perfect.

  
“Yes, please. Turns out a margarita is not my favourite either“

  
“How about I make you my special pizza, and we eat it together? If you don’t mind that the shop is fully decorated with pumpkins and witches.“

  
Sherlock laughed. “I don’t mind.“  
  
  
“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Then I want to talk with you about that special payment of yours. “

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, please give kudos or write a comment.


End file.
